


Treading on Eggshells

by tobifreakazoid



Category: Hetalia-Related Fandoms, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Artist!Reader, Childhood Trauma, Cute, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Germany is a big softie, Implied Sexual Content, My First Work in This Fandom, POV Germany (Hetalia), Reader is weird, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Relationship(s), Roomates, Tsundere, artist, but just a bit, slightly OOC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 05:57:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5236919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobifreakazoid/pseuds/tobifreakazoid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since I'm taking arts, and I am also a mess, i wanted to dedicate a fic for all those messy, artsy nightowls out there.<br/>So here's a fic for all of you. Its also because I got sick of all those perfect character types in fics. Girls are not that perfect. And we can definitely be slobs if we want to.<br/>Germany, being the straight-laced guy that he is has been roomies with an art student, and this is when Ludwig finally pluck up the courage to confess to her. Fluff, Fluff, and something about chickens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Treading on Eggshells

Maybe it was her paint stained fingers, hovering in the air as she decides on what her imagination is going to concoct today.

Maybe it was her hair, flyaway, free and untamed, the silky (h/c) tresses tumbling across her back.

Possibly it was her voice, a rare creature it was, but whenever she laughed, it resonated in all of his heart chambers.

He guessed it was her eyes, too. Wrought of flame and starlight, twinkling when she was happy, burning when she was enraged, comforting when he is at his worst.

He could think of a million, million reasons of what he loved of her. But he could never point out one reason. They tumbled, weaved and merged to form HER. And he loves her, for, as cliché as this sounds, her.

Her fire, her ice, her sweet serenade and spice.

He really needed to stop reading all those Tumblr posts. It’s really getting to his brain.

The studio was bathed in morning sunlight, casting a glow in the room. (Y/n) hated waking up in the mornings, preferring her nocturnal life. She in unbearable in the mornings, especially when their coffee stock was running low. She would tie her hair up in a tornado-like bun, grab her phone and stalk off to the nearest Starbucks in her pajamas. And return with two caramel Lattes and chocolate truffles.

Ludwig was her exact opposite. Years of military training had drilled him to wake up early and get his shit together without a second thought. So he got the worst (best) job in the world; waking up the dragon in her lair. Every morning he would navigate through the mess that is her room and shake her awake, and every morning she would punch him in the nads. Well, it was good training.

Being her roommate does have its moments, though. She might be sloppy and terrible at following her schedule, but she was brilliant. She was an awesome cook, for one, so they never went hungry. Even that hyper Italian approved of her spaghetti and meatballs. She also had the most gracious heart that he had ever known, willing to share even her kidneys if someone asked for it. He remembered a time when she called him one night, excited to tell him about the blue pashmina scarf that she had saved for for months. She had managed to save enough to get it! She told him that she was running to the store to get it and that she would be back a bit late.

But when she got back, there was no scarf. She greeted him as always, smiling. But there was something wrong with the smile. It didn’t reach her eyes. So he asked her what happened to the scarf that she wanted. Shrugging lightly, she said that the scarf was sold out.

He didn’t believe her at all.

The next morning, he went into her room to wake her up as usual. She was sprawled on the bed, a tangle of limbs and sheets. Next to her, her phone beeped. He picked it up, hoping it wasn’t something urgent. There was a message. He didn’t want to pry or anything, and if you ever ask him, he would deny ever seeing the text, but the message opened on its own.

Bel  
Thank you for the scarf, big sis! Grandma loved it. She hopes that she can meet you some day. I told her that you were the best ever and that the gift was from you and me! I would like to meet you again. I’ll study hard and get into the same college as you. Then I can thank you myself. Lots of love from me!

He stared at the message. So that’s what happened. No wonder she was quiet yesterday.

“Turn a bit to the left, will ya? I can’t seem to get the angle right with you sitting like that.”

Her voice woke him from his memories of her. She was looking at him critically, her brows furrowed as she motioned for him to move. “Sure”, he grunted. She continued her work, and he returned to his thoughts.

It wasn’t as if their years of being roommates hadn’t had its share of shit-filled moments. The constant argument that they would share was concerning the state of the apartment. He was the OCD with neat-freak issues while she was the slob that could eat with the same hands that was smeared with her chemical-induced paint. They had to draw up a truce just to survive. She handled the kitchen and all its mess, because she was the resident cook, while he would handle the living room. Their bedrooms were neutral grounds and can never be touched or commented on by the other party.

She was also someone who didn’t understand the concept of a civilised society. She didn’t care about what she had on, even when he was around. She struts around the apartment in only her towel, strips the moment she steps into the apartment, flings her bra whenever she felt like it, and keeps forgetting to lock the door to the shower. Not that he minded, really. It was just the stupid blush and fluster that would creep up that bothered him.

And she was fierce. Coming from a single-parent family with a bunch of kids made her independent, and growing up without anyone actually having time for her made her strong. She’d told him once, during one of their more emotional drinking stupors, that she didn’t trust people all that much, because her dad left them at an early age and her mom kept ignoring her in favour of her younger siblings, but whenever she was with him, she said that she felt safe, for some reason. Like he had this thing that helped ground her to life. And then she had to ruin the moment by puking on his boots, then passing out after shouting “Fuck off, flying chickens!”

“There. You can look now, Ludwig.”

She was smiling at him, joy clearly etched on her face. She really was brighter than the sunlight. But, of course he could never tell her that. She’d feel betrayed, with the amount of trust that she had for him.

“Vhat have you been up to, Liebe?”

“Well, considering that this is my last semester in the university, and that I’ll probably turn into a hobo next year, because, yeah, art grad and stuff, I wanted what may be my last artwork in a while to be something that’s precious to me.” The look that she gave him was bashful, which is a word that one would associate with the headstrong (y/n).

“So, well, here’s that something precious.”

He was stunned. It was a portrait of him, not looking stoic for once, but smiling. Which as weird, an expression that was rarely on his face.it was hard to take it all in, especially when (y/n) had called him her something precious. Flattery wasn’t something common for (y/n), so he knew that she really meant what she said. It warmed him.

She fidgeted on her small stool, possibly uncomfortable with his silence. Oh. He should really say something. “(y/n), this, I, vell…I do not have vords for this. Nobody had ever took the time and effort for something like this just for me. Forgive me if I am a bit speechless.”

He stood up, and wrapped his hands around her. So warm, and she smelled like chocolates and coffee. He hoped that he wasn’t crossing any boundaries, but she felt so right in his arms. Like she belonged there. He felt her flinch, and was ready to let go, in case she was offended by his gesture, but she hugged him back, her head reaching only to his chest. He lets his head lul on hers, inhaling the sweet scent of her shampoo that he sometimes used without her knowledge. His tiny artist.  
He lets her go, not because he wanted to, believe him, he don’t, but because it was too long of a hug for merely friends. He knew this.

But he also knew that he could change that.

But he was also a coward treading on eggshells.

But he really, really wanted you to be his, and he wanted to be yours.

But, he didn’t want you to run away and never forgive him.

“Ludwig, you’re doing it again.”

“Vhat?”

“That thing that you do when you’re thinking. It’s a cross between a bitch face and being really confused. It’s cute and all (He blushed), but you should tell me what’s on your mind. I might be able to make it go away, whatever the problem is.”  
He hesitated. Every rom com that he was forced (willingly) to watch with you as you shot down each plot has taught him that this was the right moment to confess his undying love for you. Or, at least, the ones that he managed to stay awake for. So, the tiny people in the TV couldn’t all be wrong, right?

“There it is again.”

He steeled his nerve. (y/n) is, was and would always be the girl for him. He knew that. So he was going to take the plunge and hope for the best. He could feel his heart accelerating, thumpthumpthump. And he felt like puking. And what was that thing that his stomach was doing? He was a strong nation, for crying out loud. A war veteran, even. And now he was quivering at this tiny slip of a girl. Damn him.

Ignore, ignore, ignore.

She looked at him funny, and giggled, not really helping the situation. “Anyways, big man, I’m gonna clean up, alright. Then we can go grab lunch or something, alright?” Now or never, Ludwig. Now or never. When she turned, she grabbed her arm, pulling her closer to him. She gasped a bit, surprised. He never manhandled her before. She was scowling. He needed to move fast. This was a definite code red.

So he kissed her, all the words that he was practicing to say at this moment flew out of the window, useless. He felt her soft, slightly chapped lips on his, not moving. He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see her face, didn’t want to see the disappointment there.

And he felt her lips move against his, tentatively at first, but as the kiss went on, he felt her hand move to the back of his head, pushing him closer to her, deepening the kiss. She was really into it. And she wasn’t pulling away. He was more than happy. He was in love.

That is, until oxygen knocked on his lungs, demanding entry. Pulling apart, they both breathed heavily, her (e/c) eyes shining, searching his. Her next words, however, ruined the whole sexual tension thing. (And yes, he learned that from Tumblr. Go figure.)

“Rawr.”

They burst out laughing, blush covering their cheeks. How did he even ended up with this psychotic little fluffball, anyways? He stroked her red stained cheeks, revelling at how radiant she was in the moment.

“So, I guess this is where you confess your undying love to me? Or should I be the one to do it? Because, in all honesty, I do love you, Ludwig. And I did mean it when I said you were precious to me.”

He grinned, infected by hers. Fortune does favour the bold, he thought. Especially those bold enough to manhandle a crazy woman that knew karate. Oh, well, he loved her, warts and all. He wasn’t perfect, she wasn’t perfect, so they were perfect for each other.

“I love you, mein Liebe.”

She pounced him, attacking his lips. And he was grinning like the idiot that he was all the way.

Especially that night, in his room (her’s was toxic), under the covers of his thick comforter, without an article of clothes in sight, just cuddling, learning about one another anew.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, i don't really know German. So, yeah, that's why he's a bit OOC. Tell me what you think think, and if there's any mistakes, let me know.


End file.
